


Dreamy nights in good company

by Nalou



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: 100 to 600-words little stories, Alternate Universe, First Meetings, Inspired by pictures, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, rating changes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 20:37:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17107730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalou/pseuds/Nalou
Summary: Charles and Erik- a series of little unrelated vignettes wrote during a workshop organized by the lovely members of the Collectif NoName. 50 minutes, a 100 to 600 words stories.





	1. Wedding night

He’s bored. He’s drunk. He’s completely smashed already, but it doesn’t matter. He’s installed at the groom and bride’s table, but it doesn’t matter. His mother hasn’t even set an eye on him all day. He should have been at the kids’ table with Raven, but Kurt had insisted. He’s almost an adult, now, Kurt had said. He needs to start acting like one.

And so did Charles. Sixteen, smiling at all those fake bastards surrounding him even when they all ignored him, and draining his glass of extra-pricey wine as fast as the waiters fill it for him.

He has abandoned the idea of following the conversations long ago, and lets his eyes wander on the gigantic rented ballroom.

White everywhere, in fluffy fabric on the walls and at the back of each guest’s chair, on his mother’s dress. Isn’t it supposed to mean _purity_?

They are loud, so loud, and Charles suddenly feels like he can’t breathe, his bowtie constricting his throat. He needs air, and possibly another drink.

His chair scrapes on the wooden floor when he stands up in a swift movement – it’s just as his knees straighten that the floor is not so horizontal anymore. And that his body decides to go to the left without his legs ready. He stumbles and collides into someone, and suddenly there is no noise at all – except for the pieces of broken plates that roll on the floor, their content splashed everywhere.

Charles straightens once again and looks at the waiter in front of him, whose tray is now empty of its content. _Erik_ , he can read on his tag. Erik is watching him too, seemingly shocked. Actually, his skin is getting greyer and greyer as the second passes.

“Excuse-me, Sir, I didn’t… I’m sorry, I –” the waiter starts.

Charles’ brain is trying very hard to catch up, but he’s disturbed by Kurt’s yelling.

He’s used to it already, but he can see Erik jump in surprise. Quickly, three other waiters come by, one with new plates to serve, one with a broom and a mop, and the third who just grabs Erik by the arm to get him out of here.

Charles tries to follow them, but his legs feel like cotton and they walk fast, and soon he’s outpaced.

Ignoring Kurt’s vociferation, he continues to walk until he finds the door that leads outside.

The waiter is yelling at Erik just on the side of the porch, so he joins them quickly. The man stops when he sees him.

“We are really sorry, Sir, Erik here will pay for the dry-cleaning. And he is finished for tonight, he won’t bother you anymore.”

That’s when Charles realises that his tailor-made blue waistcoat is stained.

“Oh, no, sir, it’s not his fault!” Charles says. “I’m the one who caused the… erm… accident?” His tongue is heavy in his mouth, but the crisp air that fills his lungs wakes him up. He looks at Erik, whose eyes are adverted. “Really, it was totally my fault. I collided with the tray because I didn’t look before standing up.”

The waiter looks at him suspiciously, but drops the matter.

“Still, we’ll do without you tonight, Erik. Go home.” He says before going back inside.

Erik looks at his shoes, hands in his pockets, clearly mad.

“I’m sorry I made you lose the job. I’ll talk to him again.” Erik looks up, plants his piercing grey eyes into his. “I’m Charles, by the way. Since you’ve got time, maybe we could grab a bottle?”

Erik finally smirks.


	2. Delivery guy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is explicit! Beware...

“Hello, I’m Erik, the delivery man. I’ve got a huge package for you.”

“Oh,” Charles starts, surprised to find such a beautiful man on his doorstep. “Please, come in, sir!” He steps back and adjusts the falling shoulder of his dressing gown.

Erik enters and closes the door behind him.

“Where should I sign?” Charles asks, his eyes roaming over the large shoulders and trim waist squeezed in a two-sizes-too-small polo shirt. Nice biceps, too.

His mouth goes dry when he registers the mirroring hunger in Erik’s eyes.

 

It’s not long before he finds himself thrown on the kitchen counter, spread over his open robe, panting as Erik’s lubed fingers stretch his hole.

“Erik…” he gasps, breathless, “take me, now!”

“Such a demanding cocky bastard, I’m sure you’re the worst customer in every store –”

“Shut up and just fuck me already!”

“I’m here to obey your wishes…” Erik finally gives in.

 

Soon, his magnificent cock is filling Charles to the brim, and he fucks him so hard Charles has to clench his fingers around the counter’s edge as his orgasm starts to build.

“Oh, yes, Erik, _harder_!”

Erik complies, and quickly Charles sees stars.

 

They’re both panting hard, Erik’s forehead resting on Charles’ pectoral.

“Well…” Charles starts, swallowing to try and regain his breath. “Do you always deliver such services with the package?”

Erik huffs. “Only with the bad behaviours.”

“Then, I think I’ll be pissy next time,” Charles laughs, his finger carding in Erik’s hair, massaging his skull.

He already feels Erik start to become hard, still inside of him.

 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAND CUT!”


	3. Waiting

He waits here, for the time to pass, to run, to disappear. It looks like a bus stop, but without any bus, or any road, or any city, or any people. Just him, the bench, the clock, and that field of lush green grass under a cloudy blue sky.

He waits here, but he doesn’t know what he is waiting for. Is someone coming to get him? His Mama, maybe? All he knows is that he shouldn’t wander, in case someone comes looking for him. The Clock’s hands seem to move only when he doesn’t look at it, so he keeps his gaze straight in front of him.

A silent wind plays with his hair and the grass, neither hot nor cold. He doesn’t really feel it on his skin. Like it’s not really here. Like he’s not really here.

All he knows is that he has to wait here. For what? He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t care.

 

It feels like days and also like a handful of seconds when the clock finally chimes and someone walks and sits beside him. His face is shadowed by the sun, except there isn’t one.

“It’s time, Erik.”

He knows that voice.

By heart.

His is pounding.

 

The man moves slightly, and his face is revealed.

 

“Come with me, Erik.”

“Charles…”

He wants to cry, but feels nothing.

Charles extends his arm, palm up. “It is over now, you can rest. I’ll take care of you.”

 

When he brushes it with his fingers, eager to touch his long lost lover, everything fades away.


End file.
